


I'm gonna take what you're givin'

by Book_Junkie007



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, radio sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_Junkie007/pseuds/Book_Junkie007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy feels his breath catch for a moment.  No, he hadn’t been thinking about it, but now that he was, the image of Clarke with her head thrown back, moans heavy on her lips from what his fingers were doing to her, was stuck in his head and he wanted to follow through.  Badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm gonna take what you're givin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frea_O](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frea_O/gifts).



> Tried to make this as canon compliant as possible, so it's either set in a squishy place between 2.11 and 2.12, or it's set right at the beginning of 2.12, before Clarke leaves for TonDC and Bellamy is taking a break from hauling his ass through the vents.
> 
> Thanks to [wincechesters](wincechesters.tumblr.com) for reading through for grammar, and [raavainateacup](raavainateacup.tumblr.com) for helping with the characterization. This is for [Frea](freaoscanlin.tumblr.com) who, while we were flailing about Bellarke at 3 am said, "watch as someone posts a radio sex fic by the end of the week", and my response was I VOLUNTEER!

Bellamy bangs his head lightly against the metal wall behind him, trying to not make too much noise and alert the guards. He has been hiding in the vents for less than ten hours and is already going stir crazy. He doesn’t understand how Octavia managed to do it for sixteen years. “Clarke, we’ve been over this...”

“Have we? Have we really? Because you’ve just told me that you’re currently hidden in a vent with a radio that _Maya_ swiped for you, and you don’t even know if it’s bugged or anything. Bellamy, how could you be so reckless?” Clarke’s annoyance is clear across the fuzzy line, which serves to fuel Bellamy’s own.

“I know because I took it apart before calling you.” His voice is tight.

“You managed to take apart a radio, and put it back together? On your own?”

“Yes, Clarke. I do know something about electronics.” Frustrated, Bellamy runs a hand through his curls.

“So you’re sure it’s clean?” she presses.

“Yes, I’m sure. Want me to prove it to you?”

“How are you going to do that? Are you just going to waltz up to the security centre in Mount Weather and make sure that the waves from that radio aren’t coming up on their system?”

“Yes, I’m sure they would love that,” Bellamy replies, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Maya told me there are 382…” he pauses for a moment, then corrects himself, “381 people who live here, so they would know if I didn’t belong.”

“So you’re just going to hide in the vent? Really good plan there, Bellamy,” Clarke snorts. “Also, are you okay? Did something happen? Your voice caught for a moment there.”

“I’m fine,” Bellamy says quickly, not wanting to talk about how he killed a man in self-defense. There would be time for that later. “Now how about I prove to you that this line isn’t bugged?”

“Are you going to talk me through an orgasm or something? Because I really don’t have time for that.”

Bellamy feels his breath catch for a moment. No, he hadn’t been thinking about it, but now that he was, the image of Clarke with her head thrown back, moans heavy on her lips from what his fingers were doing to her, was stuck in his head and he wanted to follow through. Badly.

“That’s not a bad idea, and, Clarke, the world isn’t going to end if you enjoy yourself once in a while. The Grounders aren’t going to get into a fight with the guards; the Reapers aren’t going to storm outside the tunnels while you take some time to please yourself. It might even be healthy; stress-relieving endorphins and all that, right? You tell me, you’re the doctor.”

“Medic,” she corrects. “And it’s true that orgasms release endorphins, making you feel happier. It also boosts the immune system; lowers rates of depression, anxiety, and suicide…” Bellamy tunes out for a moment, wondering what would make her orgasm most quickly. Would it be his lips or his fingers? Or both? Did she like her breasts being teased, or would that make her uncomfortable? He tunes back in to hear her finish. “...and helps you sleep better.”

“Would you like to sleep better tonight, Clarke? I’ll walk you through the steps…” he says leadingly, hoping she doesn’t hear how much he wants this.

He hears a long suffering sigh over the line. “Fine. Five minutes.”

“Fifteen,” he counters. “Good things take time.”

“Ten,” she says decisively. “And not a minute more.”

“Okay, ten,” he agrees, and quickly swallows, hoping she didn’t hear it over the radio. “Is the door locked?”

“Hang on,” she replies, and he hears her set down her receiver. He unbuttons his shirt and pulls it out of his pants while he waits for her to come back, leaving it open on his chest. She comes back on the line a moment later. “Now it is.”

“Okay, good,” he says, trying to slow his racing thoughts to figure out the best way to go about getting Clarke off. He can’t believe he’s doing this. “Take off your shirt.”

He hears a rustle of clothing before her voice comes over the line. “Done.”

“Okay, now undo your bra and starting at your waist, slide your hand slowly up to your breast.”

“Which breast, left or right?”

“Left,” he says promptly. He pops open the button on his pants and undoes his zipper. “When you get there, take your nipple between your thumb and forefinger and pinch lightly.”

A breathy moan comes over the receiver to let him know she had arrived at her destination.

“Good, now roll your nipple between your fingers. Pretend it’s my hand on you.” He can see her in his mind’s eye, slowly rolling her nipple. He thinks that she would have pale pink areolas, because it would fit with the rest of her. He wishes he was in the same room with her, so he could help her himself.

He’s rewarded with a louder moan. “Okay, that’s good, Clarke. But we don’t want your other nipple to feel neglected, do we?”

“No,” she breathes.

“Okay, so with your other hand, play with your right nipple, and slowly slide your left hand down to your pants and undo the button. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes…”

“Okay, so what you’re going to do when you get there is slide your hand under your panties and put a light pressure on your clit. Not too much though. I want you to feel teased at this point. Are you feeling teased, Clarke?”

“Yes,” her voice is low and husky, the way he had always imagined she would when he was talking to her while they were in bed together. He closes his eyes for a moment. “When can I have more?”

Bellamy chuckles and pushes his boxer briefs down before wrapping his hand around himself. There’s a drop of pre-cum on his tip and he hasn’t done anything other than talk to Clarke. Stroking himself slowly, he replies, “Patience. You’ll get there soon enough, and I’ll be right there with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you still pinching and rolling your nipples, making sure that neither one is getting too neglected?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. You can put more pressure on your clit now and start rubbing it in slow circles.”

A low moan filters over the receiver, causing him to stroke himself more quickly.

“Clarke?” His voice is raspy.

“Yeah, Bellamy?”

“How wet are you right now?”

There’s a pause for a moment before she replies. “I can easily slide my fingers against my folds.”

“Are your panties wet?”

“A bit. Oh, god, this is going to be so uncomfortable afterward, isn’t it?”

His breath catches for a moment while he imagines her soaked panties. The black bikini underwear which was standard issue on the Ark would look amazing against her pale skin. He was aching to be able to trace the outline of them with his fingers, his tongue.

“Don’t think about that right now. I want you to put one finger inside you and imagine it’s my finger, okay?”

“Okay,” she sighs then cuts it off with a moan. “Oh, god.”

“How does that feel?”

“Good, but I’m not full enough, Bellamy. How do I feel fuller?”

“Add another finger, and make sure your thumb is circling your clit.”

“Done.”

“Okay, now I want you to start pumping your fingers in and out while imagining that it’s my hands on you, okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees, before allowing herself to moan louder.

“That’s it,” he reassures her. “Let it all out.”

Bellamy continues to stroke himself while listening to Clarke’s moans. He imagines her breasts heavy in her hands, her nipples pulled taut and sensitive. He wonders if she would be receptive to him teasing them with his tongue, if he was in the same room with her. God, why had he left her? Other than because it was his duty and because she asked.

“Bellamy?” Her voice comes over the line, tight and frustrated. “I’m almost there, but I can’t quite reach. Talk to me?”

“Of course,” he says, and begins to tell her how strong and beautiful she is, and how much he misses her, and how much he wants to see her and do this in person to her. As he speaks, his strokes get faster and faster until the point when she screams in ecstasy over the line and he follows her over the edge, her name on his lips and his cum spreading over his stomach. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes while his heart rate returns to normal.

When he can breathe properly again he speaks into the receiver. “Clarke?”

“Hmmm?” Her contented hum over the line makes him smile.

“The world didn’t end did it?”

There’s a moment of silence and then she says, “No, it didn’t.”


End file.
